


All Your Dreams That You Keep Inside

by Dumb_Scotticus



Category: Vinesauce (Video Blogging RPF)
Genre: Denial of Feelings, Dreams, Joel is only tall in Vinny's dreams, Just to be safe, M/M, POV Vinny, Recreational Drug Use, Self-Medication, Vinny has nightmares about streaming again, as usual mike plays the role of supportive but assholeish best friend, i dont want anyone getting legit triggered by a fucking vinesauce slashfic lfjgldjfg, vinny smokes an epic weed dont worry about it
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-17
Updated: 2019-08-07
Packaged: 2019-09-21 08:06:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 3,586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17039963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dumb_Scotticus/pseuds/Dumb_Scotticus
Summary: Vinny has dreams about Joel every so often. It's never been a big deal.Recently, though, it's started to become a problem that he can't ignore.Title from "Talking In Your Sleep" by The Romantics





	1. Late

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [In A Dream](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16301636) by [Hollowgast](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hollowgast/pseuds/Hollowgast). 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just as a quick note: this fic is going to be updated in very short chapters.
> 
> find me on tumblr at vinnoel or on dreamwidth at scotticus.
> 
>  
> 
> DISCLAIMER: This fic is about fictionalized versions of the public personas of real people. I do not ship the real versions of them, nor do I want them to get together. I make no claim that this represents them accurately or truthfully. I do not know how these real people behave in private, and therefore could not write them as real people. As such, this is about fictional versions of people. Imagine an actor playing themself in a movie. Or like Adam West in all the shit he’s played himself in. This fic is about exaggerated and flanderized versions of people who I know essentially nothing about. I do not care what the real Vinesauce folks do in private, and this fic is, once again, not representative of them or their real lives.  
> That being said, please enjoy, and if you are hate-reading this, please practice healthier life choices and self care.

Vinny’s eyes open quickly, and he rubs at his face  before he feels his stomach drop.  _ Shit, I’m supposed to be streaming,  _ he realizes.  _ I’m gonna be late,  _ he panics. He moves to look at his phone for the time, but the numbers are all wrong. They don’t look like any numbers he’s ever seen before. He doesn’t find it strange in the moment; rather just sort of annoying. He swings his legs off the bed, and suddenly the floor is hundreds of feet below him, and he startles as he almost tumbles off the edge in his exhausted-state. He stares down at the void below him in terror.  _ Fuck. Fuck. How am I going to get to my computer?  _ He worries, throat dry and breaths heaving as he watches his feet dangle off the bed. His brain is swirling in fear and anxiety, and he feels sick. The room is quiet other than his own ragged breaths, until a voice breaks the silence.

“Vinny, go back to sleep, it's the middle of the night,” He hears from his left, and feels a hand touch his shoulder, and soon someone is sitting down next to him, sliding the arm around to hold him in a close embrace. “Lay back down, man, you don't have to stream until tomorrow,” they say gently, lovingly, and when Vinny looks up to see who it is that was somehow standing where there’s no floor, he recognizes the face immediately.

Before he can process it, he’s lying down again. 

“Joel,” Vinny mumbles abruptly to himself, eyes still closed. They flutter open, and he sits up slightly, propping himself against a pillow. He’s sticky; drenched in sweat with his bangs plastered down to his forehead. he pushes his hair back with a hand, letting his arm circle limply around the back of his neck, rubbing at his temple and eye with a palm. He drops his head back down on the pillow, letting his hand fall on his chest. Closing his eyes again, he takes a few deep breaths to calm his rapidly beating heart. 

“Fuck,” he breathes. He hasn’t had one of those dreams in a while. Years, even. He certainly didn't miss them. 

To be specific, the nightmares about not streaming were frequent. Some were worse than others, but waking up in the middle of the night in a panic wasn’t uncommon these days. He hadn’t, however, had a suspiciously Joel-centric dream in a very long time. And those hadn’t ever been what he’d call a nightmare until this one.

Vinny grunts in frustration, and doesn’t briefly consider how nice it would be if Joel  _ actually  _ held him like that. He doesn’t. Because that’s  _ really weird, Vin, _ his brain screams at him. He sits up fully, glances over at his alarm clock (4:27 AM), clears his dry throat, and fists a hand in his hair. He slumps over, resting his forehead in his hand and his elbow on his thigh. He stands up. Changes out of his sweat-soaked clothes. Goes to the kitchen. Drinks too much water, and feels sick. He’s not sure if it was caused by the water or not. He goes back to bed and tries not to think about it too hard. The next few hours are spent aimlessly on his phone until sleep finally overtakes him again. He doesn't dream anything else that night.


	2. Fireman

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mike Time™

Music drifts through the kitchen as Vinny stirs a pan of tomato sauce on the stove. He can’t place the song that’s playing, but he hums along absentmindedly anyway. Resting the he spoon across the rim of the pot of water on the other burner, he steps away to open the fridge. He reaches in and pulls out a package of ground beef.

Suddenly his back feels hot. Too hot. _Burning_.

He turns around to see a fire blazing on the stove, flames lapping at the ceiling as the pot of water boils over, an impossible amount of scalding hot water spilling out onto his floor. Panicked, he glances between burners, fire and hot water and smoke and steam all swirling around him, making his throat close and his eyes water, burning him over and over in a singing pain that seems to root him in place. His legs go out from under him, and he accepts that he’s going to fall into this orgy of hot water and steam and fire and smoke and hes going to drown and/or suffocate and/or have his flesh melt off, but instead he stays roughly at the same height he was before, if not higher, and when he finally opens his eyes he's gazing into concerned, blue-gray eyes that may as well be pools of water for dousing this stove-top pasta fire. Vinny blinks, and maybe the other pair of eyes does too, but either way he’s being easily shuttled out the door, carried bridal style by an incredibly handsome fireman with long flowing hair that's probably a fire-hazard in and of itself.

He realizes it’s Joel instantly, and it doesn’t strike him as strange in the slightest. Vinny is perfectly content with being held in surprisingly strong arms, supported perfectly and safely and being carried away from danger, clutched to a warm chest and rescued from burning alive. He can’t think of anything to say, so he doesn’t say anything, and it’s only when they take far more turns and far less flights of stairs than it probably _should_ take to get outside that the cold city air sends a chill down his spine, and those warm, strong arms are wrapping around him once more, keeping him warm, and Vinny tries to open his mouth to say thank you, tries to get any words out at all, but he’s being kissed. It’s the best kiss he’s ever received in his entire life.

Vinny’s eyes snap open with a gasp so hard it hurts his throat, makes him choke with wheezing coughs as he blinks his eyes tight together and sits up. He sits there in a daze for a while, listening to the sound of his own heavy breathing. He grabs his phone with a shaky hand and texts Mike. _are you up? if not ignore this_ _whenever you get it_

He gets up. Changes his clothes. Goes to the kitchen. Pours a glass of water. Feels sick.

He can't help but stare at the stove for a bit before he's interrupted by his phone buzzing on the counter next to him.

> **Mike:  
> ** Whats up man? lucky for you i just got back from a ungodly cockstain o’clock piss break and im not asleep again yet. 
> 
> **Vinny:  
> ** nightmare
> 
> **Mike:  
> ** Yeah i figured as much
> 
> **Vinny:  
> ** joel was dressed like a fucking fireman, mike. im seriously about to chop my own fucking head off.
> 
> **Mike:  
> ** Sexy or regular
> 
> **Vinny:  
> ** what???
> 
> **Mike:  
> ** Was it a sexy fireman outfit? like a stripper fireman? or was it just a regular fireman uniform? this is very important for my contextualizing of this dream, Vinny

_ “i literally just facepalmed irl” _ , Vinny types after removing his palm from his face.

> **Mike:  
> ** Humor me 
> 
> **Vinny:  
> ** regular i think? fuck, why am i even answering that? does it matter???
> 
> **Mike:  
> ** It doesn't matter in the slightest im just an insufferable dickhead
> 
> **Vinny:  
> ** remind me to set someone else as my emergency contact
> 
> **Mike:  
> ** I'd like to see joel drive up to new york the next time you get your thumb stuck in the faucet while ass naked in the tub
> 
> **Vinny:  
> ** ONE. TIME.


	3. Snow

The first thing Vinny notices is that it’s freezing in this room. Then he hears a familiar laugh. He tries to turn his head to see where it was coming from, but his body won’t listen to him as he stands straight and motionless in a large, almost featureless room. There’s a single window to his left that he can see from just out of the corner of his eye, and he focuses his vision on the sliver of what seems to be a snow storm outside.  
In the small area of vision he has, he just barely makes out a short mop of brown hair under a beanie and a black jacket. Then it’s gone, and Vinny continues to stand motionless, not bothering to try to move.

Suddenly, a door on the wall in front of him that Vinny could swear wasn’t there before swings open, and he shivers as a gust of freezing wind blows over him. He instinctively tries to cross his arms to shield himself from the cold, but his limbs are still stuck in place. Someone steps through the door, and Vinny recognizes the face at once.   
Joel smiles when he spots Vinny, making a beeline to him and opening his arms wide. Vinny feels arms wrap around his waist as he’s brought into a tight hug. He doesn’t expect to be able to return it, but his arms lift to wrap around the other man’s shoulders. Vinny’s eyes shut and he wraps his arms tighter, but Joel pulls away without any sign of difficulty despite how hard Vinny tries to hold him in place.  
“It’s pretty cold out there, man, but you look fuckin’ freezing,” he chuckles warmly, bringing a hand up to tug off his beanie. He turns it around in his hands before pulling it snugly on Vinny’s head, letting his hands linger there before moving down to cup his face. It feels like an out of body experience as he watches Joel lean forward to kiss him warmly on his forehead, then again on his cheek, and once more on his lips, taking a bit longer to lean away from the last one. Joel steps back and smiles at him genuinely, lovingly, and Vinny feels something inside of him melt. Something unpleasant, something bad and wrong and worrisome. It melts away from him. He’s happy. 

His eyes open abruptly. He’s not sweaty or struggling to breathe. His throat is dry, but he’s not choking or gasping for breath. He’s not disoriented or panicked. He’s disappointed.

Stands.  
Skips changing.  
Kitchen.  
Water.  
Sick.  
He goes back to bed and lays there. He doesn’t have to try not to think about it, because the thoughts don’t come and he falls into a restless sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading this chapter! its very short and also more of a consolation for the fact that double-booked PROBABLY wont get an update this month. 
> 
> if youre interested in the reasoning behind that, i made a short post on my [ dreamwidth about it here.](https://scotticus.dreamwidth.org/7093.html)
> 
> anyway, thanks again for reading, i do appreciate it. also the next chapter may end up bumping this to an M rating? im gonna go ahead and say it most likely will, but if youre reading vinnoel fic youre probably okay with light and vague nsfw.


	4. Warmth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is the reason i had to bump the fic's rating to M.
> 
> also please enjoy this, i hope the several small updates to other things have made up for me not updating double-booked this month! <3

Vinny wakes up groggily with too-tight boxers, an uncomfortable feeling in the pit of his stomach, and a headache.

He’s almost glad that he doesn’t remember much of the dream this time. What he does remember, though, is enough to give him a vague sense of mortified guilt. He covers his face with a pillow, groans, and seriously considers smothering himself. He texts Mike instead.

> **Vinny:  
>  ** Hey guess what  
>  My brain is still a weird asshole  
>  And also this time it made me suck a dick and also enjoy sucking a dick  
>  woo

He gets a text back within seconds.

> **Mike:  
>  **I thought you already enjoyed sucking dick.

Vinny sighs in a sort of comforted annoyance. He starts to type ‘ _Thats not the point_ ,’ but thinks better of it.

> **Vinny:  
>  **i dont, and especially not when its 10 inch swedish metalhead dick

He pauses for a moment before typing again.

> **Vinny:  
>  **also fuck you
> 
> **Mike:  
>  **Listen vin I just calls it like I sees it.
> 
> **Vinny:  
>  **Seriously though mike i feel so fucking creepy, i hate it
> 
> **Mike:**  
>  creepy?  
>    
>  **Vinny:  
>  **I just had a dream about giving my friend whos almost a decade younger than me a blowjob
> 
> **Mike:  
>  ** Well when you put it like that yeah it does sound creepy.
> 
> **Vinny:**  
>  Thanks.

Vinny pinches the bridge of his nose, rubbing hard enough at his eyes that it hurts.

> **Mike:  
>  **Id say ignore it or don't feel bad about it or something but at this point i feel like theres no reason for you not to go for it

Vinny stills. Mike can’t possibly be suggesting he tell Joel about this shit. Vinny can predict about a zero percent chance of that turning out well. _“Go for it?”_ he sends back, hoping Mike was talking about something else.

> **Mike:  
>  **Yeah. you know, go for it. go suck his dick

Vinny rolls his eyes.

> **Vinny:  
>  **yeah, let me just give a cross-ocean blowjob
> 
> **Mike:  
>  ** You don't have to literally suck his dick, just  
>  Whats the word?  
>  Not figuratively, something else.  
>  Im too tired for this shit vin, stop having nightmares.
> 
> **Vinny:  
>  **thanks for that tip
> 
> **Mike:  
>  ** METAPHORICALLY.  
>  You just have to metaphorically suck his dick
> 
> **Vinny:  
>  **that makes no fucking sense
> 
> **Mike:  
>  ** Sure it does.  
>  Aaaand now im actually going to sleep, you should too.
> 
> **Vinny:  
>  **yeah. ill try.
> 
> **Mike:  
>  ** Good luck with the whole boner thing. I’ll send you big titty anime girl energy so you dream about that instead.  
>  Actually did you know theres an active community of witches on tumblr?
> 
> **Vinny:  
>  ** theres a lot of things on tumblr, mike.  
>  good night.  
>  also please don't send me “dream energies” or whatever the fuck. especially not of anime girls
> 
> **Mike:  
>  **Yeah yeah will do. go to sleep, Vin.
> 
> **Vinny:  
>  **Night

Vinny locks his phone and flops back onto the bed. He’s even sweatier than he’d been the past few nights, and his throat is even drier, but he’d rather die than get out of bed. He manages to fall asleep with a soaking wet shirt and cottonmouth, and that’s the only thing that goes well for him that night.

* * *

 _Joel moans wantonly, flushed and quivering from pleasure. His breaths come out in the form of hitched, shaky whines as he stares down at Vinny. They hold eye contact long enough for Vinny to take the entire length into his mouth again, feeling the twitching sensation in his mouth as Joel stifles his bucking hips, making small_ ooh _-ing noises every so often when he hits Vinny’s throat. He swallows hard to contain another moan, and coincidentally, Vinny does the same, muscles tightening and flexing in his full mouth, just barely moving his flattened tongue back and forth. Joel gasps, grabs a fistful of Vinny’s hair, and thrusts hard. Vinny is surprised by his lack of a gag reflex, and he doesn’t question it— just lets Joel have his way with him until the younger man tenses, crying out Vinny’s name lustfully and slowing down time, and Vinny feels the warm sensation spilling into his mouth as Joel makes a few more thrusts, slow and jerky. Vinny licks his lips, wiping drool from the side of his mouth as Joel pulls back, and he feels Joel’s fingers mussing through his hair as he swallows down the remnants of—_

 _Oh._ Vinny thinks, eyes still closed as he pops into a lucid state. “Cool, we’re doing _this_ shit again…” He grumbles near inaudibly to himself. Leave it to his shitty asshole brain to pick up right where it left off. Vinny sighs in resignation when he fails to ignore the obnoxious, needy degenerate that resides between his legs. With a frustrated growl, he grabs his phone off the nightstand and begrudgingly shoves a hand into his boxers. Opening a private tab in his browser, he finds something else to think about instead of the dream he’d just woken up from.

A few minutes later, his phone is locked, his eyes are closed, he has one hand over his mouth and one attending to other matters, and he's thinking about the dream.

He passes out spooning a pillow and generally hating himself for everything he’s ever done in his entire life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> usually i make it clear that my fanfiction is just that -- _fiction _\-- but this ones real vinny definitely had a dream about sucking joel off at least once__
> 
>  
> 
> __  
> __  
> ~~THAT WAS A JOKE IM NOT ACTUALLY CLAIMING THAT HAPPENED~~  
>   
> 


	5. Tender

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey remember this fic? yeah i do too. heres a (comparatively) long chapter.

 

He doesn’t have any more sexual dreams about Joel for a while, thank god, but the content of his dreams doesn’t get better. If anything, it gets _worse._

Sex dreams were… _understandable_ at the very least. Vinny can’t deny that he finds Joel attractive, and of course his subconscious is gonna take that and combine it with his pent up incel loser cock’s frustration. That he understands. It makes him feel creepy and weird, but he can explain it away as having a case of… What did Mike call it? “Cumbrain?” Yeah. That.

However, having a dream about being held tenderly, strong hands running down soft skin, just barely brushing against his chest, long hair draping over him as he’s kissed passionately, smiling into a kiss that’s too sweet to be real…

That’s a bit harder to write off as cumbrain.

He still tries very, _very_ hard to write it off. And he can’t, of course, because eventually, after a good three months of this shit, it wears down at you. 

His streams have sucked for about two weeks now. He knows they have. He knows he’s been less than funny, less than entertaining, and he’s not surprised when the numbers of live viewers are lower than usual. He still streams out of obligation, of course, but he knows it’s not his best, and he hates it.

When he’s offline, he’s plodding around through the day, doing nothing, wasting time on the computer or playing video games for himself. 

It’s depressing, if he’s honest. 

Tossing a controller onto the couch beside him, he sets out to (at least temporarily) feel something other than shame and paranoia. 

One Pokèball shaped grinder and a modified kazoo later, he’s back on the couch, sunk into it just a bit more than he was previously.

His hands shake just slightly, fingers drifting in different directions. He tries to text mike, but the words on the screen don't come out right. He focuses, willing himself past the high and the impulse to lean backward or drift his eyes around the room.

Eventually he comes up with something legible.

 

> **Vinny:  
>  **Mike.  
>  Hey.  
>  I’mm had a dream  
>  agout joel gain and m going to tell you about8its.
> 
> **Mike:  
>  **You what now
> 
> **Vinny:  
>  **I’m rsmoked a little. just a lil.
> 
> **Mike:  
>  **youre fucking high???
> 
> **Vinny:  
>  **Yeha.  
>  iImlittle bit.  
>  God i havee dreams abouy hoel and i wish they werte sezx dreama but theyre not and theyre WORSR bwcause theyre TENDET R i rwallt don't qant to love jpel mike i really sont
> 
> **Mike:  
>  **hang on  
>  im calling you  
>  fucking idiot

 

Vinny waits for his phone to ring, and he picks up as quickly as he can manage to finally tap the screen.

“Vinny, what the fuck,” is the first thing he hears once the call connects.

“I’m stupid.”

“Can I quote you on that?”  
“No. I don’t like when people quote me out… Out of…” Vinny squints in thought, searching the file cabinet covered in mud that is his memory bank for the correct word. “...Context.” He finishes, nodding to himself. A sigh comes through the speakers of his phone. “Wha’?”

“What the fuck happened?”

“I like Joel too much and it’s… Bad.” He pauses. “Also, my stomach hurts,” he mumbles indistinctly, scratching his beard.

“What was the second part? You seriously gotta enunciate.”

“Stomach ache,” Vinny clarifies.

“Well have you eaten anything? Don’t fuckin’ starve yourself because you’re depressed about being gay again,” Mike snipes, and the dig goes over Vinny’s head.

“I’ve eaten!” He protests as he looks down at the nearly empty package of Oreos sitting on the couch beside him. He reaches for one.  
“Good. Now what _exactly_ happened? You don’t usually resort to harmful self-medication this quickly.”

“F’ck off,” Vinny says around a mouthful of cookie.

“Hey, don’t tell me to fuck off! I’m the one giving out advice to your wasted ass!” 

Vinny groans loudly, then swallows. “You’re not.”

“I am so!” Shouts Mike.

“You’re… What were we…” Vinny trails off, then starts trying to suppress laughter. “I can’t remember what you’re not doing!” Mike says something in response, but Vinny doesn’t hear it over the sound of his own laughter. 

Once he calms down, he hears a heavy sigh from the other line. 

“Hold on,” Mike says. “Just… go lie down or some shit.”

“Why?” Vinny says, tilting his head.

“Just do it. And stay on the line.”

“But that’s _boring_.”

“Well put on some music! I don’t know!”

“You’re fuckin’ weird,” Vinny decides. He considers getting his record player out because that would seriously be so awesome, but votes to open his phone instead. “Technology is amazing,” he tells Mike without a shred of context as _Dark Side Of The Moon_ begins to drift out of his phone’s speakers. He figures musical cliches about being high are probably acceptable if you’re high.

“... _What?_ ” Mike mutters to himself before speaking at a normal level, “Whatever— just turn that down, I can barely hear you over it.”

“Sorry, what’d you say? I can’t hear you over the music.”

“Jesus Christ,” Mike mutters, and Vinny barely hears him while subtly miming along to the various instruments playing.

* * *

He keeps talking to Mike (after eventually turning down the volume), and soon enough, he hears a car door shut, then someone wiggling the front door knob. He’s just barely lucid enough to realize it’s probably Mike, and if it’s a murderer then he figures that's cool too. He thinks about getting up to let Mike in, but that means he has to stand up, and Mike has a spare key anyway, so he can deal with unlocking a door. 

The door swings open, and Mike shuts it behind him before looking at his friend with a sour expression.

“Do you want the third to last Oreo?” Vinny offers. “You can’t have the last two; I want those.”

Mike drags a hand down his face, then moves to sit next to him on the couch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fun fact: the vinny texts were written normally, then i re-typed it while high for typo authenticity.
> 
> you guys know the drill by now.
> 
> tumblr: vinnoel  
> dreamwidth: scotticus  
> location: RPF hell


End file.
